Haunted
by lonni
Summary: We all have our ghosts from the past. It's a collection of one-shots. Now playing: Lucky 13, Far away. Jon had often wonder what it would have been like, stepping out of his father's shadow.
1. The other woman

Title: The other

Character(s): Catelyn

Summary: Catelyn's feelings when she first comes to Winterfell - only to find herself completely alone. It's just easier to find somebody to blame.

Words: 270

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><p><em>Little darling, it's been a cold, long, lonely winter. <em>

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><p>Her presence was everywhere. Or so she thought. It was a light presence, nothing more than a feeling. Something was there, and it just <em>had<em> to be _the other_. She couldn't be sure, of course. Maybe it wasn't her, maybe it was nobody at all and she was just going mad. Lonely people go mad, don't they? She thought so – she's never been lonely until she came to her new, frozen home. She didn't belong there, that much was plain to see. People were different from what she was used to. _He_ was different. She didn't truly know him to begin with, of course, but she certainly wasn't expecting such..coldness.

It was so cold, and she was so lonely. The wind would chill her bones, she would shiver and feel observed. It was almost as if somebody was observing her.

This was when she realized it had to be _her_.

_The other one_ was the reason for her miserable life. The other woman was behind his long silences and his sad glances, it had to be her. Everything that happened since she came to the North – it had to be her. _The other_ wasn't there, of course, but there was a living, breathing crying proof of her existence in that same castle. She didn't know a thing about her, the _other woman _who was the embodiment of her fears, her discomfort and loneliness. One day, she just decided to blame _the other_, because it was better – and easier - than blaming herself, her life, the whole world.

Another woman, she could hate.

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><p><strong>AN**: The song I was listening to while writing, and which I quoted above, is The Beatles' 'Here Comes The Sun'


	2. Flame

Title: Flame

Character(s): Jon

Summary: Playing with fire

Words: 190

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><p><em>And <em><em><em>now that midnight has come, I'm in a room watching the dead dancing in their graves.<em>___

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><p>"Don't you like fire?" She teased him with a playful smiler on her face "does it scare you? Fire is life, after all, and you should know that. You can''t be afraid of such a thing."<p>

"Scare me? Not really, no," he said, slowly, dragging his words. "It reminds me of... someone, I suppose."

Then he closed his eyes, and there was a long, calm silence, until the flamed died and the whole room went black.

"It reminds you of a woman" she said. It was a statement rather than a question - she didn't like to admit there were things she didn't know, and she almost never asked question.

He answered her anyway.

"She _was _fire" he told her, sounding almost wistful. "Her hair was red as a flame, and her lips."

"Her blood was red. Her blood, on my hands. But blood is always red, isn't it?"

He sounded bitter now, bitter and irate and defeated.

Then there was silence again, and neither of them did talk.

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><p><strong>AN**: The song is 'Dancing Dead' by Avenged Sevenfold.


	3. Little girl lost

Title: Little girl lost.

Character(s): Daenerys. Drogo.

Summary: Dany's relationship with Drogo, before he dies.

Words: 1050

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><p><strong>AN:** This is about Dany and Drogo. I've always found them very, very sad.

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><p><em>You <em>_know the lies I tell, when you've gone through hell and I say I can't stay_

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><p>She has been feeling lonely her whole life. Nobody's ever cared about her. <em>As a person<em>, that's it. They see her as a walking womb, a dragon spawn, a fallen princess, but nobody knows who Daenerys really is. Daenerys is a girl who likes to dream.

In her dreams, she feels safe, warm, _loved_. Nobody hurts her, in her dreams, and she can imagine that home she's never seen and that brother she's never met. Her home is beautiful and her brother, the _other_ brother, is gallant and handsome and he loves her. She knows it. Somewhere, in her dreams, in the back of her mind,_ she knows. _Her dreams are one thing, reality is another. Reality is big and noisy and dirty. Reality is dangerous and wide, scary. It's much better to dream, about her gallant brother and her house of Braavos and the unseen place she's from.

But she has to face reality one day. She's always know she would, eventually, and there's not much she can do to escape the man her brother sold her to. She fears him, and yet she's oddly_ excited_. This dangerous, savage man will take her away from her life. Away from her brother, away from abuse and pain. She knows she might be trading a lifetime of abuse for one of dread and she spends many nights awake, tossing in her bed and trying to decide whether she's afraid or glad or simply confused. She realize she doesn't know what to do, and she does nothing. Because that's what she's been doing her whole life. That's all she knows how to do.

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><p>When it's time, <em>he<em> doesn't even talk to her. _He_ being the huge warrior she's to spend her life with. Well, he doesn't talk because he doesn't know how. He's a savage, and there's only one thing he does with women. And so he ravishes her like the barbarian he is, with no respect for her body or mind. He uses her, like if she were a thing. A thing you can play with, until you're bored. Something you can stress and ruin, because it's just a toy, after all. And when the thing, the _toy_, is broken you just throw it away and get a new one, no sweat.

So, she's a thing. _His_ thing. And that's not the worst part.

The worst? She likes it. Oh, she doesn't like it while it's happening. She hates it, she hates him. She curse his name and cries at night. She feels bad afterward, she feels sore and dirty and cheap, like one of the whores her brother likes. Like that one girl her brother gave to him, the one he got to teach her, to teach her how to be a better toy. Her brother wants her to be a better doll, so she can at least be entertaining before she breaks. Because she's going to break. He knows, she knows. They all know.

Yet she misses her husband when he's not there. She hates when he uses her and she craves her touch, like a drunken fool with no will who will drink every night and wake up every morning regretting it, just to go drinking the next night all the same. She is a _fallen warrior_ who drinks to forget. A fallen warrior, just like her brother. He _other_ brother, of course. The gallant, dead one.

As the days went by, the truth kicked in. The truth is, everybody needs somebody. People need to believe they're loved, and the beautiful Dragon Princess is no exception. After all, she's alone in her new life, just like she's always been. There's nobody else she can turn to, nobody but him. She needs somebody to hold her, to make her feel loved.

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><p>Her new husband likes his golden woman. The flame in her hair, the brightness in her eyes, the tricks the Lyseni woman taught her, all this he finds fascinating. He doesn't talk much, doesn't know what to say. It's not hard for the Dragon Princess to imagine the things left unspoken.<p>

Daenerys lets her mind fills the blanks. She tries desperately to understand him, to pretend he loves her, because she's the blood of the dragon and a princess, but she's just a little girl and her soul craves affection. Knowing she's pregnant makes it easier. He's the father of her son, he does care for her. _She just knows._ He didn't take another wife, after all, even though it would be within his rights. This makes Daenerys happy, to know that her husband still wants her. This means she's more than a womb to him._ It has to. _

He killed her brother, finally. He is a good man, he wants to protect her. This is why he did it. _A very good man. _His society might be barbaric and cruel, but he's one of the best men she's ever known. He loves battle, but this is just the way he was raised. Even gallant knights in the Sunset Kingdoms - knights like her handsome brother - love to fight. He takes slaves, but this is just the way the world is. He will treat them well if she ask him, she knows it. She can change him. Night after night, day after day, she tries to find a way, some way, any way, to open her heart to him, to find in herself love for the man who took her innocence. He is kind to her, after all. He doesn't hurt her. He doesn't even rape her, not anymore. He's never really done that. Why would he need to? He loves her. He _always has_. He's her sun-and-stars, and she loves him. She finally understands that simple truth and, for the first time in her life, she's at peace.

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><p><strong>AN**: Song of the day: Emilie Autumn's 'Opheliac'


	4. Please don't leave me

Title: Please, don't leave me

Character(s): Tyrion

Summary: Tyrion has finally found Tysha, his long lost childhood love.

Words: 300

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><p><em>Hello there, the angel from my nightmares, the unsuspecting victim.<em>

_And in the nights we'll wish this never ends. We'll wish this never ends._

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><p>"I have missed you" Tyrion said. Such a stupid thing to say, he knew, but he honestly couldn't come up with anything better. <em>That's a first<em>, he thought, angry at his own ineptitude. For the first time in oh so many years, Tyrion Lannister was at loss for words.

"You have to understand" he added, hastily, staring into her eyes. They were distant, absent. It was almost like if she didn't know who he was, but it couldn't possibly be true, he reflected bitterly. Of course she did. There was_ no way _she would ever forget him, no way in hell. _All seven of them._

"I spent years looking for you. Thinking of you." Still no reaction. Tyrion was genuinely puzzled._ What is wrong with her?_

He kept looking _at_ her and she kept looking _through_ him until he couldn't take that overwhelming silence anymore. That was the moment when he moved towards her, the moment when winced and shivered and stepped back and he felt his anger growing in his guts.

"I'm sorry for what my father did to you." _Here, I finally said it, what else could she want to hear?_ It didn't even cross his mind to apologize for what _he_ had done to her, of course, this was simply not the way Tyrion Lannister thought. She didn't acknowledge his words, keeping her face an expressionless, calm mask. Why was she doing this? _After all those years, how does she dare? _He thought he started shouting at her, and maybe he was. It didn't really matter anymore. And she kept looking at him, with those big, empty eyes.

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><p><strong>AN:** The song I quoted is 'Miss You' by Blink 182; the title song is 'Please Don't Leave Me' by Pink.


	5. Burnin' for you

Title: Burnin' for you

Character(s): Daenerys

Summary: Let it burn.

Words: 75.

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><p><em>And a word to the wise when the fire dies, you think it's over but it's just begun.<em>

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><p>Nothing is better than one's last moment of shining perfection.<p>

Pain and life and hate and passion, it all goes away in a bright flame of completion. What is done is done; right before the end, nothing really matters.

Everything burns away and the world is hot and white and pure and perfect, oh-so-perfect.

_Close your eyes, little one. It will all be over soon._

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><p><em><strong>AN**: _That was Avenged Sevenfold's 'A Little Piece Of Heaven'; 'Burnin' For You' is a song by Blue Öyster Cult._  
><em>


	6. Lies my parents told me

Title: Lies my parents told me

Character(s): Jon

Summary: There is something really fascinating about deluding oneself.

Words: 645

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><p><em>Somewhere, between the sacred silence and sleep. Disorder. <em>

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><p>He was eighteen the day he finally realized the truth about his father, and he would have been better not knowing anything at all.<p>

Sometimes we love people who don't deserve it, he told himself that day, or maybe we simply love what we think they are. That's it, until we grow up, find out that one thing and push away our loved ones. Sometimes it's an old shame, a horrible crime, a hidden truth. In Jon's case, it had been a simple, innocent thought. Or maybe it was the fact he was dead (_not really _dead, but still dead_ enough_), he didn't really know. One day he was busy cursing the sons of whores who left him in a pool of frozen blood because of some old, meaningless ideals when the treacherous words words came to him, _that's exactly how my father was_. He tried to rationalize it later, tossing and turning in bed. He was just nervous. His father had been - not, was, he still was - his hero; he missed him; hell, he was probably angry at his father for being dead, never mind how stupid that sounded. Then he fell asleep, and woke up next morning with a horrible feeling in his chest. Empty. Like if they had cut him open, _again,_ and taken _something_ away from him. It didn't really hurt, and maybe he was better without it anyway, but noting had really been the same ever since. That was when he grew up.

Jon hated stupid people. He really, really did, diplomacy be damned. That was how he ended up dead in the first place, after all. He simply _couldn't_ butter up his words for people who refused to change their behavior, to see the world for what it really was, to understand when 'their way' was wrong just because _this way is the way things have always been_. He had just never realized his father was one of them, and he couldn't bring himself to accept it.

He _truly _was better off _before. _Not knowing, he decided, was a bless. The fact that his father was dead didn't help at all. He couldn't even talk to him, hear what he had to say. He could only try to understand him, and he did. That was when he finally realized the value of lies. Jon had been raised to believe in truth; now, for the first time in his life, he could fully appreciate the benefits of lying. Lying to others, he thought, was a dangerous - yet highly rewarding - business; lying to yourself..now that was an art. To shut your eyes and refuse to see; to pretend the world was exactly the way you wanted it to be. That was real power; delusion. The ability to change reality by simply refusing to accept it. The more he tried to grasp the concept the more he felt he understood his father. Now he comprehended the power of ignorance, and he loved it.

After a while he changed as well. While Jon himself couldn't afford to pretend things were how he wanted to, he could easily see the fascination. Knowing what people wanted to hear made them easier to manipulate, he found out. He learned to use polite words when he wanted to swear, smile when he felt like grinding his teeth, laugh when he was furious. And sometimes when he saw his reflection in the mirror he couldn't believe his face was still the same, until he remembered that he looked exactly like his father and felt that emptiness in his chest.

_I'm trying Father_, he thought then. _I really am._

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><p><em><strong>AN**: _Toxicity, by System Of A Down_  
><em>


	7. Day after day after day

Title: Day after day

Character(s): Jon, Dany

Summary: My take on a J/D relationship.

Words: 745

**A/N: **I didn't mean to post a new chapter today, but it kind of wrote itself. This is a what if. I'm exploring a possible Jon/Dany relationship and this is what I came up with. My personal opinion is that they would make each other's lives miserable, and that is exactly what I wrote. I don't really like the result, but I tried anyway. Oh well, here it is. (PS: Also, I would like to thank the people who put Haunted on story alert. I hope you enjoy this!)

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><p><em>There's no place like home, when you have no place to go<em>

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><p>He wasn't expecting it to be that hard, but nobody had said it would have been easy either.<p>

He hated his situation, every moment of it, with a passion he had never expected to find in himself. He longed for his home in the North, for the cold kiss of the wind and the sight of the snowy sky; but there he was, in a city of snakes and plotters and murderers, and he slept next to the worst of them all. Oh, she was charming enough, his dragon queen. She was charming and beautiful and willful, and it never ceased to amaze him how she behaved like she owned the world.

It wasn't that bad, he assumed, living the life he'd always dreamed of with the most beautiful woman in the world at his side. Except, _he_ was the one at _her_ side. He was _hers,_ nothing more than an underling to a woman who thought to be above everybody else, parading around in all her Eastern splendor and decadence. She though herself to be a goddess, but that, he thought, she was not.

That morning he entered storming in his quarters, bitter and angry and disgusted with the world, only to find her there, standing calmly in the center of the room.

"What.." he started to say, rather bluntly. He stopped himself in time, though. "What are you doing in here?" he managed to ask quietly. _Why now? _He didn't think he could handle her presence, not there, not that morning.

"Maybe I missed you" she said, an innocent look in her eyes. _I am just a young girl _she used to say sometimes. Trying to persuade herself or somebody else, he didn't know. He only knew it was a lie, and that he hated lies. He also wondered why she kept on saying that, but he had a feeling he would never find out.

"Well?" She was looking at him, eager. A woman like her was not used to wait.

"What do you want?" he asked her, again. Blankly. He did usually tolerate her ignoring him one day and seeking him the next, but that morning he didn't think he could.

"I told you" the woman responded. "I wanted to see you, I barely have those past days". That was true. As much as he disliked his wife, he never avoided her on purpose, but he never sought her out either; and when she had something she wanted to do they would not see each other for days.

He kept looking at her, almost ignoring what she was saying. She was a lovely sight, that Eastern wife of his, his fiery dragon queen. He didn't think her to be the most beautiful woman in the world, like the crowds said, but she was certainly more than enough for him. _I should think I'm a lucky man. I should love her._ but he only felt contempt. Day after day after day, he didn't think he could last any longer.

"Please" he asked her, lightly "please go away. I don't think it's the right time" _Day after day after day..._

"Maybe I don't want to go away" she told him, raising her chin. She stood there, in the middle of the room, looking insistent and childish and lovely, and he couldn't stand the sight of her.

"I told you" he hissed, To get out" She gasped. He'd never talked to her that way. Nobody ever did. Nobody dared. "Now" He added. He couldn't control his rage anymore, he didn't want to. On the other and, neither did she.

"No." She whispered, with those perfect lips. "You get out. I don't know if you are drunk or simply mad, husband, but you seem to forget your place. Maybe _you _should leave, until you calm yourself down"

He really couldn't believe it. She really could think about anything else than herself. He turned to leave.

"If you apologize" she stopped him "you may stay". He almost laughed, staring at the door. She really couldn't understand.

He looked at her "I am sorry Your Grace." She didn't pick the irony in his voice. She never did.

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><p><strong>AN:** I've been told I'm a little harsh on Dany here. Maybe I am, I dunno. As I said, this chapter is nothing more than a what-if, but I still think a Jon/Dany pair has so much.. potential. Angst potential, that's it, and this is how I'm writing it. Plus, I do find Dany to be incredibly childlish; I think she's a waste of pages and of what could have been a great character. Still, she's fun to write. (BTW, I like TV!Dany. Clarke is amazing)

The song is 'Viva La Gloria (Little Girl)' by Green Day


	8. Till death do us part

Title: 'Till death do us part

Character(s): Cersei

Summary: Songfic. I don't have time to write anything else right now

Words: 864. Almost more lyrics than text.. well, I'm in a hurry!

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><p><strong>AN: **This chapter is a songfic, inspired by the song 'Marry Me' by the wonderful Emilie Autum. If you don't know her, go listen to the song right now. Youtube is your friend! This is very, very short. I actually think that the lyric is longer than the actual writing, but I don't really have enough time to write anything right now, and I hope you'll enjoy the chapter anyway (the song is pretty awesome). Also, this fic is getting a fair number of story alerts and a lotof hits and visitors. Like, _a lot,_ even for the later chapters. Even if only a third of you guys actually read it, it's a pretty big number and it's nice to know people like my depressing drabbles.

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><p><em>Marry me, he said, through his rotten teeth, bad breath, and then<br>Marry me instead of that strapping young goatherd, but when  
>I was in his bed, and my father had sold me<br>I knew I hadn't any choice, hushed my voice, did what any girl would do_

They were wedded a few months after the end of the Rebellion, on a hot, dreary day. The air was thick and sultry, the sky was white with clouds and Cersei felt like suffocating. When she came out from the sept, holding Robert's hand, she felt light in the head and, for a moment, she couldn't believe that it was all happening to her. The crowd cheered her and every face was smiling, but she couldn't chase that feeling of sadness. _This is all I have ever wanted,_ she told herself, _I should be glad._

But how could she be happy when Jaime was looking like that?

__And when I'am beheaded at least I was wedded  
>And when I am buried at least I was married<em><br>I'll hide my behavior with wine as my savior__  
><em>

In her first year of marriage, her husband often came to her. Sometimes she felt lonely and cold and some other mornings she was sore and aching; but she always woke up alone. She always felt humiliated, and after her wedding night, she realized she couldn't tolerate the sight or the presence of her husband, or even the simple thought of him. He had made quite clear he had no intention to appreciate what he had, and she wasn't going to make the first move. Nobody insults a Lannister and gets away with it, not even the king.

_My life is arranged but this union's deranged  
>So I'll fuck who I choose for I've nothing to lose<br>And when master's displeased I'll be down on my knees again_

In retrospect, something good had come out of Cersei's wedding night, although she took a few months to realize it. She had been pushed over the edge. If her husband didn't care, she wouldn't care either, _he_ was the one who started it. She could pretend it was Rhaegar inside her at night, because her husband did the same. She could play with her mind and imagine a different end to that battle when she lied awake in bed, and enjoy it. She could do whatever she wanted and not feel guilty, because _he_ wouldn't have.

It was two months after her wedding when she called her brother in her rooms and told him to make her scream, because she knew he would do just that.

She could do whatever she wanted.

She was the queen.

_When dining on peacock I know I won't swallow  
>Through balls, births, and bridge games I know what will follow<br>We're coupled together through hell, hurt, and hunger  
>Or at least until husband finds someone younger<em>

After all, Robert didn't care about her opinions, and he made it quite clear to the whole court. The idiot had never heard of decency, dignity, propriety or similar, petty notions. Week after week, month after month, Cersei saw who he really was; a pathetic, drunken fool who smelled like cheap liquor and fucked like a beast. As the years went by the kingly mask fell, the iron hammer started to rust and the contempt the queen felt for her lord changed into something deeper. She lived in a beautiful golden cage, and Robert was the jailer. and she knew he would never, ever set her free.

She was hateful and spiteful and bitter and it was all his fault.

_Yes, fertilization is part of my station  
>I laugh as he grabs me in anticipation<br>Of sons who will run things when I'm under covers  
>But whose children are they? Why, mine and my lover's!<em>

They had been married for two years when Cersei gave birth to her firstborn, and she was glad she could say for sure who the father really was. Men were just so stupid, she had come to realize. They thought with their cock and called it power; and women were silly enough to let them have their way. Most women, but not Cersei Lannister. Her son, her firstborn.. he was her little revenge.

And every time she saw him, so beautiful and prideful and _golden, _Cersei couldn't help but to think that she'd had the last laugh.

_But, oh, what beautiful things I'll wear_  
>What beautidul dresses and hair<em><br>I'm lucky to share his bed__  
>Especially since I'll soon be dead<em>_._

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><p><strong>AN: **FYI,I don't even like Cersei, but pretending to be in her head is a lot of fun.


	9. The sun song

Title: The Sun Song

Character(s): Jaime, Cersei

Summary: Another songfic. I really am busy

Words: 1220. How do you count the words in a songfic anyway?

**A/N: **Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the second, exciting installment of 'Moi is too busy and lazy to actually_ write_ something'. Yep, it's another songfic, named after the a song called, you guess it, 'The Sun's Song'. It's a wonderful song and it's just _spot on_; it's the English version of Lucio Battisti's 'La Canzone Del Sole', and it's amazing. (Go listen to both of them, right now. You won't regret it. And, no, I'm not spamming. I'm just doing musical propaganda).

There are references to sex and incest – but, c'mon, I think we're all used to reading about incest – and I really like how this chapter came out. It'not beta'ed, but I still like it way better than Cersei's songfic and I found out I really enjoy writing Jaime.

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><p>She was his sister, his lover, his confident. She was his other half, the missing piece of his soul. She was the one who betrayed and hurt him and broke him; and he loved her until the day she died.<p>

_Your long blonde hair and eyes of baby blue  
>Bright colors never fading<br>The blush of childhood on your downy cheek  
>The days of hide-and-seek<br>The secret places we arranged to be  
>The things you felt but couldn't see<em>

They grew up together, always together. They were 'the children'. _The children _need to eat, Lady Joanna would say. _The children _should go to sleep. _The children_ will talk to Lord Lannister, when he'll come back from King's Landing in a fortnight. _The children _were always near each other, they were a _part_ of each other. Jaime used to come to his sister's room at night; he couldn't sleep well without her. She would fall asleep in his arms, always before him, and Jaime would watch her sleep. She was beautiful and calm, and he knew it was his presence that made her sleep.

He used to kiss her forehead, like he saw his mother do once. He did it every night, when she slept, and for many years after.

He kissed her every night, and she never knew.

_Do you remember tossed in waves of white?  
>Green stones where water flows free?<br>What color are your eyes speckled in light?  
>I'll never ask you'll never tell me<em>

Jaime couldn't remember their when they first kissed. They'd been doing it for so long, since they were children. Five or six years old, maybe. It didn't really matter. Their mother kissed them, and she loved them. Once Cersei saw her father kiss Lady Joanna on her lips, and people said Lord Lannister loved his wife dearly. Cersei loved Jaime, and she kissed him on the lips.

It made him feel special.

Jaime couldn't remember when he first kissed his sister, but he could remember when he first tasted her tongue. Cersei was the one who started it, actually, but he was the one who told her how to do. He was eleven years old, and he'd heard some squires talking about their girls.

"You're supposed to open your mouth" Jaime revealed "and move your tongue. You shave to wiggle it around"

"What for?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jaime didn't know. But then she said she wanted to try, and she did.

She ended up licking half of his face, and he laughed.

_Where have you been what have you done till now?  
>You're a woman, a woman tell me<br>What do you mean that you're a woman at last?  
>How many arms have been around you?<br>Did they change you in the past?  
>So what don't tell me, you're moving too fast<br>_

They were thirteen when they first made love. Both Jaime and his sister expected it to be quite..different. They'd heard of rough passion and gentle bliss; of something graceful and lustful and devouring. People called it fuck and shag and dance, but Jaime called it love. For he loved his sister, more than anything else in the world. That was what the whole thing was about, he decided. He simply couldn't have enough of her.

It was love, and love was nothing like those things he had been told.

Love was needy and greedy and hot, and it was most certainly _not_ graceful. It was sweaty and clumsy and awkward and Jaime couldn't manage to last more than a few thrusts. Their first time had been horrible and oh, so satisfying. He was left painting and breathless and wanting more.

Love, Jaime realized, _was_ horrible. Love was selfish and terrible and it left him aching for more.

Love was madness and he was a like madman under a spell.

Cersei was a sorceress and she owned his soul.

_Can you recall the waves and summer skies?  
>The spray from surfing in the sea?<br>What light flickers deep in your eyes?  
>Is the flame still burning? I can't see<br>_

He came back from the war with a tormented soul and without a hand, to find this sister completely changed. When he came back she was desperate and hateful and something was devouring her from inside. She told him she had lost a son – Joffrey was _her_ son, not _his_. Robert's son, or the queen's bastard, but not Jaime's son, never – and that she wanted revenge.

She wanted revenge and power and respect, and she no longer needed his love.

_Oh sad old ocean sad old ocean jaded sea  
>You were as pure as the innocence in me<br>Oh sad old ocean sad old ocean jaded sea  
>You were as pure as the innocence in me<br>_

Her body was cold and rigid, unnaturally_ stiff_. There were lines under her eyes and around her mouth and her body wasn't as firm as it used to be, but she was still the most beautiful woman in the world to him.

They used to look so alike, Jaime reflected, looking at Cersei's body. How he had loved that. He could see himself in her and she did the same; and when they made love he would look at his sister's face and know that she was seeing the same.

When he last saw her alive, they didn't look as similar as they used to be, and Jaime remembered how Cersei hadn't liked that one bit. His sister had loved to make love to her reflection as well, although Jaime had come to suspect that she had completely different reasons.

He stood there for hours, crying on her sister's body. He cried and prayed for the both of them, thinking about the last time he'd seen his sister. Her eyes were hollow and haunted and obsessed, and Jaime hoped that she would finally find peace._  
><em>

_When the bright rays of the morning sun burst into the night  
>The early day breaks over us with clear warm light<br>The shadows and the phantoms of the dark turn into trees and blossoms  
>Truth once more rejects the lies<br>And love becomes the light that's shining still in your eyes _

She was his pain and his delight and his frustration. She was his anchor and his burden. He loved her until the day she died and beyond, and when we was gone for real he thought a part of him was gone too, and he would never have it back.


	10. Winter and spring and snow

**A/N:** Morning folks! Yep, the story is still on hiatus, I just found a minute to write a 300-words drabble. It's kind of weird, though. Now I'm off to study, Calculus exam tomorrow. Wish me luck! Ah, BTW, the quote is from Marylin Manson's 'The Death Song'_._

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><p><em>We sing the Death Song, kids, 'cause we got no future.<br>And we wanna be just like you._

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><p>The wind was cold and gray clouse floated like ships in a sea of blue.<br>Dark, deep blue, the color of the sky in those clear days of winter; when the snow has already fallen and the sun starts shining, when the air is cold and frizzy and the world feels like lingering frost and coming Spring.__  
><em>_

_Lya loved days like these. _Ned loved them too, but not with the intensity his sister used to. He was riding out in the open, for no real reason except that he wanted to, and he felt _elated_, and _strong_; he couldn't recall feeling like this, not ever. By all rights, he should have feel tired. There was so much to do, so much to rebuilt. And yet, he was happy. The storm came, and the snows and the cold, and they'd won.

_We're still here. We always are._

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><p>The day was bright and the sun was warm, or as warm as the sun could be in the North. Spring had come at last, and everywhere Bran could see small patches of green grass in the places where the snow had melted. Father loved days like these. Lord Eddard liked to say that the Starks were made for the cold, but every man in the had in the North lived his life hoping to see another Spring.<p>

Bran wished his father was there, in Winterfell.

From his tree, Bran wished _he_ was in Winterfell. He wished anybody was in Winterfell, but the only living being was the black crow that flied over the ruins. For miles around there was silence, and death and melting snow.


	11. Kiss

Title: Kiss

Character(s): Gendry, Arya (or whatever the hell you want to call her)

Words: 210

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><p><em>She obliterated everything she kissed.<em>

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><p>The man lived in a small village called Four Kings, in Blackwood lands, and the townspeople seemed to like him, although no one really was his friend. The smith had first come to the village a couple of years before, right after the end of the war, when King's Landing fell to the Dragon Queen. He came looking for peace – that was what he'd said to the villagers, at least, and he also said he'd found it.<p>

He would wake up every morning when the sun rose. He would work at the forge, until midday, when he went walking for about an hour. Then he would go at the forge again. That was it, every day. Every single day.

That particular day though, the smith got back from his daily walk red-faced and flushed.

He was dead by night. A snake, that's what they said it was.

Once, years before his death, the smith has known a little girl called Arya Stark. Sometimes she was Weasel, or Nan. But then she became no one, and a man told a woman to bring the gift to the smith.

And she did.

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><p><strong>AN:** Alright, that was mean. I think an explanation is due.. First, I couldn't help it. There is an obscene number of A/G fics here, and my inner evil self had to do something about it. Second, the title wasn't meant to make you guys think anything, and I hope you don't feel cheated. It's a)a reference to the song I quoted, Hole's Celebrity Skin, and b)somewhat related to the way Gendry dies. I just liked it.

By the way, I'm not really an Arya/Gendry shipper. Joe Dempsie might be hot, but Book!Gendry is a secondary, maybe even tertiary, character whom I don't particularly care about, and I think he's way overhyped by some fans (I don't dislike him. I just don't see his importance.) On top of that, Arya's path doesn't seekm to involve love, but rather the_ loss_ of everything she_ is_. I don't like it (I'm team Sansa but still a big Arya fan), but that's how it is.


	12. The second best

Title: The second best

Character(s): Ned

Words: 228

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><p><em>And isn't it ironic, don't you think?<em>

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><p>When Brandon Stark died, the world changed. The North went to battle and a dynasty fell. A young Southron bride cried her heart out, grieving for what could have been. She cried for the life she'd wanted and the future she'd lost and the man she imagined Brandon to be.<p>

Eddard went numb. His brother had been his rock, one of the few certainties in his life, he'd never expected him to die like this, leaving _him_, the younger brother, in charge.

Brandon would have known what to do – he always did. Brandon didn't need to win Catelyn's over, he already had her in love with him. Brandon would have won the war sooner, Brandon would have took King's Landing before Elia was killed, Brandon would have known how to deal with young Jaime Lannister sat on the Iron Throne like it was his by right.

Brandon would have saved Lyanna.

And as Eddard lay down on the dirty straw in his cell he knew, without a doubt, that Brandon would have took Littlefinger on his first offer, and made himself king of Westeros in all but name.

And then it would have been war and blood and death.

But, in the end, it was all the same.

In the greater scheme of things, a single life doesn't really matter, as long as the Game is played.

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><p><strong>AN**: Aaaaand I'm back.  
>By the way, the song I quoted is called 'Ironic'. Yes, I know, duh.<p> 


	13. Far away

Title: Far away

Character(s): Jon, Ygritte

Words: 100. A perfect drabble, hundred words exactly. Yay me!

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><p><em>And I'll be there for you<br>as the world falls down._

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><p>"Have you ever wondered," he asked her once, her red, tagled air spread on his chest. "What's like, across the sea?"<p>

Jon did, he used to do it quite a lot back in Winterfell, planning new ways to cut himself a place in the world. For a whole year he'd been dreaming of going to the East and join the Golden Company, with the Blackfyres and the men of the Free Cities. A place where no one would have cared what his name meant, where most people would've said, _Snow? We don't get it here_, and laughed it all away.


End file.
